


Rattling Death

by toxicmew



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Sumigakure Halloween Event 2016, Third Shinobi War, who knew this would be my first story here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8201513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicmew/pseuds/toxicmew
Summary: Konoha ninja were tenacious, he’d give them that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Go follow Sumigakure on tumblr, everyone

War was unimaginable. It was a choking miasma of death, decay, bodily fluids and torn vegetation combining into a stench one could never picture until confronted with the wall of despair it followed.

He was a chūnin of Iwagakure and he was loyal to his village - to turn traitor and flee from this battlefield like his instincts screamed was unthinkable. So here he lay, a comrades fallen body covering his own, once sticky blood dried and flaking but still overpowering. The body - because it was just a body, not the jōnin he had seen piggybacking and laughing with his daughter throughout the village center - had been his saving grace twice already. Konohagakure may be reputable for their teamwork and their status as the ‘nice’ village, but even they had ninja tasked with searching for any survivors in the aftermath of battle. Those found of the Leaf were shuffled to medic-nin, those of the Rock had their throats slit without mercy.

Wedged half under an upturned remain of a Doton jutsu and Ikkaku - no, _the body_ \- he only needed a line of blood wiped across his throat and the large puddle of his comrade’s - _the body’s_ \- lifeblood to make it appear as if he was already finished.

Gazing across the inky field that had once been alit with Katon jutsu, he wondered if he would ever make it back to his home.

A flash of red caught his eye suddenly. Not rusted and slick like blood, no. but vibrant, practically glowing, a flowing trail behind a figure picking their way through the remains of fallen shinobi.

The Konoha ninja were tenacious, he’d give them that.

Resisting the gasp he wanted to emit, the chūnin suddenly realized what his sleep deprived mind had missed. It wasn’t a hallucination or a trick of the half-full moon drifting overhead. No, the kunoichi - he only had a guess at genders - really _was_ glowing. Soft golden light trailed past her, emerging from her back and sliding across the undergrowth like luminescent snakes.

Then the rattling reached his ears and- no.

 _No_.

He wasn’t going to make it home. His beloved village would never be sprawled out before his eyes ever again because-

That was the _Red Hot Habanero_ , and those rattling chains foretold death. _His_ death. As blood soaked as the woman’s hair, only the Yellow Flash’s kunai had taken more of his comrade’s lives throughout this atrocity of war.

The chūnin whimpered with his mind. He couldn’t release a sound, he could barely _breathe_ , after all. He had to pray for that miniscule chance that she wouldn’t notice him, that she would pass him by and he could return home to his wife.

 _Chink_.

Another rattle of chains joined the those before it, and another soul departed from this plane.

The Third Shinobi World War raged between Iwagakure and Konohagakure without pause. Skirmishes between Konoha and Kumo, Konoha and Suna, Konoha and Kiri, Kiri and Suna - Konoha was backed into a corner from all angles, but despite this they still thrived. They still fought, they still _won_ . Legends were born, and some were vanquished. The Yellow Flash, the Red Hot Habanero, Copy Ninja Kakashi - they were the figureheads of the war and they were who the soldiers turned to in time of despair. They led the battlefronts and despite their age, despite their _inexperience_ and their own fears, they struggled through the abyss of war-torn field and blood-soaked comrades. They _survived_ , and they were regarded as heroes to Konohagakure. They were the reason they kept fighting - even against monsters like A of Kumo or Akasuna no Sasori of Suna. Some would see them as cannon fodder, but some, like the three pillars the soldiers turned to on the battlefront, would see that the genin, chūnin, and jōnin dying around them were doing it for a cause.

They may be held as heroes of Konoha, but they weren’t fooled. Every named etched upon the Memorial Stone was the real hero, the real fuel for the Will of Fire that was enabling future generations to take their place among the ranks.

Some may forget - but they wouldn’t.

A chūnin of Iwagakure had thought them persevering, and that’s what they were down to their bones. A kunai with a reviled fūinjutsu etched onto the handle, a Sharingan gained from a fallen comrade, and chains snaking through battlefields - they were their weapons, they were what allowed them to rise above others and be regarded as heroes.

For Namikaze Minato, for Hatake Kakashi, for Uzumaki Kushina they were but tools of death and no matter how well they wielded them, they wouldn’t forget _why_ they fought. Konoha would not perish, not so long as they had a say - a _chance_ \- to contest against such a fate.

With another _chink_ and another splash of lifeblood the second jinchūriki of the Kyūbi no Yōko looked upon the destroyed field she was clearing of any remaining life and couldn’t help the broken laugh that slipped past her lips. Uzumaki Kushina wanted to be the first female Hokage, she wanted to prove to those jackasses from her Academy class that just because she hailed from Uzushiogakure she would protect her new home just as much as they would. Back then, she had dreamed of greatness. She had dreamed of missions completed cleanly and walking through Konoha with smiles in every direction as Academy children asked her for advice and chūnin asked when her reports would be turned in because they were always a great tale.

Now she dreamed simply of survival.

Chains rattled around her, and the sole Uzumaki of Konoha couldn’t help but snort at the fact that the legendary chains of her departed clan - the Kongō Fūsa - that were seen as protection to her former village were what gave her a new epithet. Legend told of sealing demons such as the one residing with her, and the barriers that could be summoned in but a moment that could withstand the attacks of thousands. She was the last summoner of the chains, and the most renown.

She was the Rattling Death, but she would protect her home.


End file.
